


To Say Goodbye

by Tehri



Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Goodbyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 16:57:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14938244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tehri/pseuds/Tehri
Summary: After Frodo and Bilbo have departed Middle Earth, Paladin struggles with not having been allowed to bid either of them farewell or to tell them how much they meant to him.





	To Say Goodbye

Paladin sat by his desk in his study and stared at nothing. He’d been there for the past hour after having fled from supper – though “fled” was perhaps not the correct word, though it was how he thought of it. He had quietly and politely excused himself and left his place by the table, ignoring any and all questions and attempts to call him back.

He’d known something was strange when Merry and Pippin came by. They’d been staying in Crickhollow in Buckland since their return to the Shire – to have some time to heal, as they said. And Paladin hadn’t thought anything of it. Merry was close to home, and Pippin was, well, Pippin. He came and went as he pleased, and he’d promised his family that he would come back to Tookland once he felt a little more at peace.

They’d ridden like a storm westwards through the Shire, and then returned the following week as though nothing had happened. And now, even the week after this, they had come from Buckland, with solemn looks on their faces, and had brought news of a matter that Paladin felt should have been voiced much sooner.

Frodo was gone. He had left the Shire, and he had left Middle Earth. Bilbo, though aged beyond belief, had gone with him. One last journey, on an elven ship over the sea.

The moment he’d been told this, Paladin had felt as though something inside him broke. He’d looked at his son and nephew, waited for them to finish, and told them “alright, that’s that, then”. But his mind was racing and posing question after question, and each question led him eventually to one that made him wince.

_How is it fair that you were allowed to see them and say farewell to them, to say goodbye to them, but I was not?_

He’d felt much the same when his father had died; he’d been away in Overhill on business when Adalgrim Took had passed, and he’d not gotten to speak one last time to his father. Even Esmeralda had been there, knowing that the old hobbit was dying. But not Paladin.

And now it had happened again – with his cousin whose tales he grew up listening to, and with the cousin who the aforementioned had helped to raise. They were gone, like last winter’s snowmelt, and they would never come back. Not a word, no message. Even Merry and Pippin had been only just in time to say farewell. Frodo had brought only Sam with him, apparently hoping to spare his young cousins the pain of having to say goodbye.

But they understood, did Merry and Pippin, for they knew what Frodo had been through. They knew, also, what Bilbo had been through. They knew so much more than Paladin did, and still the Thain couldn’t help but feel that it was unfair. He’d loved Frodo and Bilbo just as much as his son and nephew had, and still…

Still. It ached.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

 

Winter came. Yule came and passed. And still it ached, and Paladin carefully avoided the subject of his lost cousins. Pippin came back to Tookland and was welcomed with much cheer, but whenever he would speak of Frodo, Paladin would quietly excuse himself and leave the room.

“He worries,” he overheard Eglantine tell their son once. “There are no more Bagginses, you know. The old ones are dying, and only lasses are left to pass the blood on – but not the name. In just a few years, the name will be gone. Ponto only had a daughter – and Porto has never married, and likely never will.”

Paladin wanted to shake her when she said that, to shout at her and tell her that that wasn’t it. That was not why he was upset. It was a sad thought, of course, but sometimes that happened. There were plenty of old records in the library of the Great Smials showing families that simply did not exist anymore, but whose blood was carried on in the veins of others.

One day, when the first snowdrops had begun to pop up here and there and the weather got just a little bit warmer, Paladin sat on a bench underneath the old willow in the garden. He thought of his cousins, and he remembered the day that Bilbo had told him he’d be adopting Frodo. It had been a mess of a day. During his last visit to Buckland, Saradoc had revealed to Paladin that the lad was not well at all, and that his mood often grew darker in the spring – around when his mother and father had drowned. Being near the river was not good for him, Saradoc thought, though he’d made it abundantly clear that he was going over the heads of both his mother and his wife in telling Paladin. And Paladin had, in turn, passed the message on to Bilbo.

The old hobbit had been furious. There were few occasions that Paladin could say he’d seen Bilbo lose his temper, but that had been one of them. And still, it had been over before he knew it, and Bilbo had simply nodded and stated that he’d be bringing Frodo home to Bag End come autumn, no matter what Menegilda or Esmeralda said.

And Paladin remembered the first time he’d visited Bag End in the summer after Frodo had moved there, and he remembered how much healthier the lad had looked. He hadn’t looked so lost, and he was more confident and chatty than the Took could ever remember him being. It had been such a wonderful change, and he’d told Bilbo as much once the lad was out of earshot.

“Almost ten years,” the old hobbit had told him glumly. “It’s been almost ten years since Primula and Drogo died, and all this time, I’ve been lied to. I knew Frodo wasn’t well – how could he be? But I hadn’t known at all how bad it truly was. And now look at him. He has his moods, of course, and he had a bad few days around the anniversary of their deaths, but it hasn’t been at all as you and Saradoc described it. He’s happier away from the Brandywine.”

Yes, moving to Bag End, to Bilbo, had been the best change possible for Frodo. Even Esmeralda, when she finally got to see the change with her own eyes, admitted as much.

“It’ll be strange this autumn,” Paladin muttered to himself, “to not celebrate their birthday. We always did, even when Bilbo had gone. But now neither of them are here.”

He paused and frowned. Frodo had continued celebrating his and his uncle’s birthday even when most other hobbits seemed to believe that Bilbo had died in a ditch somewhere. Those had been joyous occasions indeed, even with the toast to the byrdings. And they had been occasions to remember.

Paladin quickly got to his feet and hurried towards the smial, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He had an idea, though he wasn’t certain if it could be done. There were a few things he would need to find out first.

 

Pippin curiously glanced around at all the familiar faces gathered in the passage outside the Thain’s apartments. Whatever scheme his father had concocted, the old hobbit had made sure to invite only relatives – with the exception of Sam and Rosie, of course, though they were practically family at this point. Neither of them seemed certain of what to think of being included in a dinner-invitation from the Thain, and Sam looked almost a little mutinous at having to be there at all.

“Relax, Sam,” Merry was saying to his friend. “Uncle has grown quite fond of you and Rosie – of course he’d invite you.”

“I don’t mind the invitation, Mr. Merry,” Sam muttered, wincing only a little when Merry quickly pinched his arm for not simply using his name. “But I had thought of having a celebration of my own this year. It’s the Birthday today, after all!”

Merry’s face fell somewhat, and Pippin felt his own shoulders sag. Bilbo’s and Frodo’s birthday was practically sacred to them; they had always celebrated it, and now that their cousins were gone, it only felt right to continue doing so in their absence, just as Frodo had done when Bilbo had left for Rivendell.

“That’s the way Paladin is,” Saradoc said kindly, reaching out to give Sam’s shoulder a pat. “Besides, he did outright say in the invitation that he’d not take no for an answer. Whatever he’s up to, he wants us all here.”

“Speaking of what he’s up to,” Esmeralda said thoughtfully, “what do you suppose it is? He’s not the type to suddenly invite people to parties.”

“I wish I could tell you,” Eglantine sighed. “But he’s been awfully secretive. I’ve not been allowed to help with anything else than a bit of cooking, and even that he insisted on doing mostly by himself. He has barely cooked anything at all since we moved from Whitwell, but he only took offense when I suggested he would need some help.”

Pippin’s sisters only exchanged meaningful glances with Rosie; even she and Sam had learned by now how dreadfully bull-headed Paladin Took could be.

Suddenly, the door flew open. Paladin stood on the doorstep and grinned brightly at them, as though nothing at all was wrong.

“So glad you’re all here,” he cried. “Come in, come in!”

The guests all exchanged confused glances, but they filed into the room beyond all the same. Eglantine froze only a few steps inside, forcing most of the others to step around her to see what she was staring at.

In the middle of the large room stood a table that looked as though it ought to collapse under the weight of all the food and drink placed upon it. Such a lavish spread had not been seen in the Shire since one of Frodo’s birthday parties. All around the room were candles and little lanterns lit.

“Paladin,” Eglantine managed to choke out when she heard the door close behind them. “What on earth have you done all this for?”

“I’ll explain in but a moment, rosehip,” Paladin promised. He stepped around his guests and held out his hand to his wife. “If you will care to join me at the table, that is.”

Pippin stared at his father, more than a little shocked at such a blatant display of opulence. Paladin hated such things. He’d been born as a farmer’s son and raised as such, and it showed in how he behaved with the title of Thain to his name. But as they went to the table to seek their seats, Pippin couldn’t help but smile as he thought that Bilbo would have loved it. And at that, another thought came unbidden to his mind and made him narrow his eyes somewhat.

“Such a feast, and on such a day,” Saradoc said slowly, his mind seemingly running along the same track as Pippin’s. “What is the occasion, Paladin?”

And Paladin smiled at them once they were all seated, including Sam’s and Rosie’s little daughter Elanor, and went around the table with a bottle of wine to fill their glasses. Once he returned to his own seat, he stood there and watched them for a moment before he held up his glass and spoke:

“One hundred and thirty-two years ago, a hobbit was born who was destined for great things. He touched the hearts of all he met, and changed the fates of many. He went beyond the bounds of our little land to help a group of dwarves reclaim their homeland. He battled goblins and spiders, and he spoke with a dragon. His story is known to us all. And fifty-four years ago, another hobbit was born whose destiny promised great things – though it was darker. He also went beyond the bounds of our home, and his journey was long and perilous. He saw to the downfall of a dark power in the east, and he saw to the return of the King. And he returned to us a changed hobbit – one who could not find peace in this land. Last year, we lost them both. They have left the shores of Middle Earth, and they will never return. But our memories remain, and we must honour them.”

Merry, Pippin, and Sam stared at Paladin in shock. Pippin could feel tears rising in his eyes at his father’s words, and an unmeasurable pride and joy rising in his chest. No, Paladin Took was not one for lavish feasts – but Bilbo Baggins had been, and Frodo had been once too, long ago. This was all for them.

“We honour them,” Paladin continued, “by remembering them as they were. Our friends, our cousins. Our loved ones. And though some thought them mad, we know who and what they truly were.” He paused, and Pippin thought he could see tears in his father’s eyes. “I have spent a year agonizing over how I was not allowed to say goodbye to them. How I was never allowed to see them one last time. And I will gladly admit that I am afraid of the day when I will no longer remember their faces or their voices. But that day is yet far off, and while I am still able to do so, I will remember them.” He smiled and raised his glass. “A toast to the byrdings – to Bilbo Baggins, today a hundred and thirty-two years old, and Frodo Baggins, fifty-four years old today. May they have many blessedly happy returns of the day, and may their memory never fade!”

As one, the guests raised their glasses with a cry of “To Bilbo and to Frodo!” and drank of their wine, and Eglantine stood and stepped to her husband’s side. He put his arm around her and smiled.

“I’m sorry, rosehip,” he said kindly. “I hope I didn’t offend you when I didn’t let you help, but I so dearly wanted to do this for them.”

Eglantine laughed and shook her head.

“You stubborn old bull,” she sighed. “Dear heart, if you had only said something, you wouldn’t have had to bear this for a whole year on your own.”

“Sometimes you have to, I suppose.” Esmeralda smiled at her brother and raised an eyebrow. “So how much of your agonizing was over how much food you’d have to cook to make a feast that Bilbo would have adored?”

“There’s a cake, too,” Paladin revealed. “And you know what Bilbo was like – if he couldn’t challenge common sense, it wasn’t worth doing.”

 

It was a merry evening. They ate and drank and were merry, and Sam seemed more than comforted at the loss of a little party of his own. They spoke of their memories of the byrdings, and sometimes they wept when they did so. Saradoc made them all laugh with stories of Frodo’s youth in Buckland, and Paladin countered with stories of Bilbo’s visits to Whitwell farm when he was younger. Sam told the story of how he’d first met Bilbo and Frodo, and Rosie told the story of how Frodo had once all but tossed out two guests from the Green Dragon after they had made uncouth remarks about her. Merry and Pippin mostly listened, though they occasionally contributed with stories of their own about their cousins. Pearl, Pimpernel, and Pervinca told stories of when they were younger and Bilbo had occasionally looked after them, and Pearl in particular was met with hoots of laughter when she revealed that Frodo had been her first ever crush.

When Elanor began to grow tired, Paladin simply suggested that they put her in the next room to let her sleep.

“There are guest rooms prepared for you all,” he said kindly when Sam began to protest and say he didn’t want to impose. “And I would be glad to host you all for breakfast tomorrow as well. The Great Smials are always open to you all – you and Rosie included, Sam. You’re as good as family, and I am not in the habit of sending family away.”

And the evening rolled on into night. It was very late indeed when they all at last sought their beds, and as Eglantine and Paladin changed into their nightclothes, Eglantine watched her husband thoughtfully.

“Bilbo would be proud of you, darling,” she said softly. “And Frodo would have loved an evening such as this.”

Paladin paused as he was buttoning his nightshirt and gave her a very small smile.

“I can only hope so,” he answered. “Though I wish I could have heard it from them.”

Eglantine moved close to him and wrapped her arms around him, leaning her head against his shoulder. And Paladin closed his eyes and wept.


End file.
